


Are you afraid of the dark?

by arubyandarose



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Awkwardness, Betty is a violinist, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Give Betty Cooper a Break 2k18, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Harm, Serpent!Jughead, Slow Burn, Southside Serpent Jughead Jones, slightly AU, slooooooooow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-05-29 01:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 18,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15061607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arubyandarose/pseuds/arubyandarose
Summary: Betty Cooper has watched everybody walk away from her. She watched her life-long crush, Archie Andrews, mock and discard her. She watched her best friend, Veronica Lodge, desert her for the boy. She watched the lonely boy from the wrong side of the tracks be ripped away from her, despite him needing her as much as she needed him.Every time, she watched and waited, in fear that acting out would cause more hurt than healing. But she's done being hurt, and is ready to take things into her own hands, ready to get the friends she needs and deserves, and ready to mend her life-long friendship with Jughead Jones, the Serpent Prince.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi?
> 
> So I'm new to this fanfiction thing, and the writing thing in general. I figured writing online would be a fun project to help me improve. But, I hope that you can find at least a little bit of enjoyment from reading my work (if not that's fine too I guess). That being said, this is my first ever fic, so please be nice :).
> 
> (I might write more parts)

Betty could proudly say she wasn’t afraid of the dark.

 

The dark was the least of her problems. What about everything else? What about the demented shadows, dancing on her wall like phantoms? Was she still fearless when she felt the familiar chill run down her spine, when a rush of wind murmured eerie whistles as it crept through the branches of the tree outside her window?

 

No, Betty wasn’t afraid of what she couldn’t see; she was afraid of what she could.

 

When a familiar claw tapped on her window, a hand she was told was a tree branch but now she wasn’t so sure, she had had enough. She picked up her phone, it’s glaring light making her wince as it shone into her equally-piercing, green eyes. Her mother had gifted the gadget to her nearly a year ago, after she’d begged for a way to speak to her friends that weren’t Archie, who spent more time with his blinds closed than previous years.

 

The clock read 3:34 am. She contemplated tapping a message out, knowing she’d get no reply. She could nearly picture her mother complaining about the dark circles lining her under-eyes in the morning, and the lecture she’d recieve about being able to concentrate in school or how maybe if she didn’t look like a panda, Archie would pay attention to her.

 

Little did her gargoyle of a mother knew, she had no interest in Archie’s affections. Not since his friends laughed at her prim and proper clothing, and he laughed too. Not since he’d called her “too perfect”, like such a thing was possible, let alone that it was something she achieved. Not since he’d made it so strikingly obvious that he wasn’t playing along with her “boy and girl next door” fantasy, and that he didn’t even want her as a friend, let alone as something more.

 

Instead, she opened up her previous conversations with Jughead. They were short, direct. Nothing of interest.

 

Come to think of it, Betty and Jughead hadn’t had a true, down-to-earth conversation since he’d left Riverdale High for the Southside. Neither had Archie or Veronica, to her knowledge. They saw the green snake embroidering his back, took one look into its mesmerising amber eyes, and ran. And she’d done the same.

 

The scrolled higher, back to conversations moths before. As she ran her thumb across the screen, the dates between messages grew fewer and further between. Her and Jughead had been closer than close, once upon a time; there wasn’t much they couldn’t discuss.

 

But now everything was different.

 

(Or was it?)

 

(Could things change so quickly?)

 

(She could try, couldn’t she?)

 

(Just one message?)

 

(It’s harmless.)

 

(She could do this.)

 

(Just press send.)

 

.

.

.

 

A shock of blue popped up on the screen. The simple words **“Hey, Jug. Can we talk?”** stared back at Betty, and instantly, the feeling of regret bubble in her stomach. _What was she thinking? Jughead didn’t want to talk to her. She’d left him, just like everybody else. This was her fault._ The thoughts circled her mind like a record on repeat, clouding her judgement. It wasn’t until the three, familiar dots on the opposite side of the screen appeared that she finally snapped back to her senses.

 

The dots appeared, and as quickly as they came, they went. And then again. And then again. Until, finally, after what seemed like hours of typing and retyping, a reply appeared before her.

 

“ **What’s there to talk about Betts?** ”

 

The knot in Betty’s stomach, that she thought would finally unravel, only tightened. He was angry. Rightfully so, she had to admit. But she was scared, anyway. To have to explain herself, to give him the reasons behind his desertion that she didn’t herself have.

 

_Well, what do I do now?_ She thought. After the months of separation, of ignoring calls, of reading over past messaged and not bothering to form a new one, Betty knew she owed something to Jughead. Something she was afraid to give him, but she knew was the only thing she could offer that could possibly mend their cracked friendship. Transparency.

 

So she typed. She typed until her thumbs hurt, and she couldn’t see the start of the message to the end. She wondered if Jughead was even waiting around for her or not, but she couldn’t stop, not when she knew she’d never have the courage again. Each syllable held her thoughts, her feelings, raw and honest.

 

(Just press send.)

 

She pressed send.

 

Jughead’s reply was instantaneous.

 

**“Meet me at the library, 20 mins.”**

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> I had some extra time to write, so I figured I'd update again. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (You can find me on tumblr at arubyandarose)
> 
> xx

The effort Betty had used to keep her mind off Jughead in the many months they spent separated was extraordinary; she threw herself into her extracurriculars, she buried herself in activities. Each day felt stacked to the brim with task after task after task, not one minute left free for her to breathe. It wasn’t an intentional effort, more of a consequent reaction. She didn’t think Jughead leaving, as well as Archie’s rejection and Veronica’s sudden distaste for pastels and ponytails, would sting as poignantly as it had. The rest was her mind making up ways to take away the stinging, and if that meant 10 hours of writing for the Blue and Gold newspaper a week, cheer practice every break and lunchtime, and playing the violin until her fingers bled as soon as her bag hit the floor of her pink-plastered bedroom, then by god she would do it.

 

The only time she had to let her hair down was when she slept, slept being in huge inverted commas; Betty never slept anymore. She never drifted off into the calm blackness, enveloped in the comforting warmth of her bed.

 

She did dream, though. She couldn’t stop; every time she allowed the soft lull of sleep threatened to overcome her mind with its overpowering opium, she was greeted not by the calm emptiness that she so desired, but dreams. No, not dreams. Nightmares.

 

She saw snakes, taunting her with their sharp tongues out and dancing below her eyelids. She saw people’s backs; her mother, Veronica, Archie. She saw blood spilt, trickling along her pastel-pink floorboards and tainting them with harsh red, the same red that stained her own palms after she clenched her fists in anger and anxiety. And worst of all, she saw Jughead. She saw Jughead, without her. She saw him hurting, drowning, dying, no one there to help him. Least of all her.

 

By blood, Jughead was a Southside Serpent, a ruthless gang member dealing in drugs, guns, and whatever else. She couldn’t bare to dwell on the subject. It was no wonder, therefore, why their friendship couldn’t survive, getting stamped out like a low-burning flame. Betty was the polar opposite to such a character; she was sheltered, brought up by the “perfect”, all American family with a tree house in their back garden and a white picket fence. She wore her shiny, blonde locks in a slick ponytail that brushed the nape of her neck, which was barely exposed by the white-collared shirt and pink sweater that hung loose-fitted on her frame. Essentially, she was forgettable. Perfect in the faultless sense, like a porcelain doll, but forgettable. Her one, defining feature was her piercing-green eyes, which Jughead had compared to emeralds one night when they shared a sleeping bag at Archie’s.

 

Inside, though, she was completely different. The perfect girl persona she exuded day to day was nothing but a facade; Betty was far from perfect. She was sharp, bright in all aspects of academia, devoted to her clubs and invested in that which she cared. But she wasn’t perfect.

 

She was damaged. A life of living in her sister’s shadow and under the reign of her judgemental mother had taught her that.

 

And she was alone. At least, she thought she was, until Jughead had offered to meet her.

 

Which is why, without hesitation, Betty threw on her trench-coat and shoes, before climbing out of her window on the ladder that lay dormant by her windowsill nights before.

 

Though the night was dark, Betty relished in the quiet, and the strange feeling of knowing everyone around you was asleep. Eventually, she found herself hastily climbing the steps to Riverdale Library.

 

She checked her watch, knowing she was either early or Jughead was late. Sure enough, the clock read 3:46, leaving her stranded in the cold night, alone and ahead of schedule.

 

She looked to her left, then her right. Making sure no one was watching her, she pulled a bobby pin from her hair, bending it out of shape and eventually inserting it into the lock of the library door. Though, before she could unlock it, a familiar, low and gravelly voice startled her from behind.

 

“Well, if it isn’t Sherlock Holmes.”

 

She whipped around, already knowing the boy she’d see. Before her, stood Jughead Jones, her Jughead, though with a few alterations. Sure, he still adorned the crown beanie, with a red button on its front that she had stitched there herself, but now the grey, woollen hat had new pins stuck into it’s crown, resembling silvery snakes and sharp fangs. His curled, inky, black locks fell over his eyes, that were still a pale blue, but colder than she remembered. A black, leather jacket clung to his shoulders like a glove, one she knew had a glaring, green, double-headed snake on its back.

 

He smirked, and she realised she was staring. She quickly removed her gaze and replied.

 

“I prefer Nancy Drew.”

 

“Well then, Nancy Drew, are you gonna get us into this library or what?”

 

Chuckling to herself, Betty turned back to the task at hand, jiggling at the lock before it eventually turned, a satisfying click emitting from within the mechanism. Jughead looked impressed.

 

“Looks like you’ve still got it, Coop,” he commented, stepping past her but not looking in her direction. She followed him into the library, closing the heavy door behind her, and flinching at the heavy thud that resonated from its closing.

 

They were plunged into complete darkness.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again!  
> I hope anyone reading this enjoys this chapter. Comments are especially appreciated!  
> 

The sudden submersion into the thick and impenetrable darkness staggered Betty; she instantly threw her arms out in front of her, in search of something, anything, to latch onto. Her fingertips came into contact with rough leather, and she ran her thumbs over the matted material. She breathed out a quiet “Jug”, to which Jughead wrapped his leather-clad arms around her frame, brushing his hands over the top of her head in comfort. Betty didn’t even realise she was shaking. Maybe she  _was_ afraid of the dark.

 

Betty thought she must have imagined it when she heard Jughead mumble “it’s gonna be okay, baby” into her hair.  _Baby? When has he ever called her that?_

 

Almost in response to her thoughts, and the newfound awkwardness from his Freudian slip, Jughead pulled away, presumably running his fingers through his hair, as he so often did.

 

“So… umm… We should, um, find the light,” he stuttered. Betty smile to herself, glad the lights were out and he couldn't see her. This was the Jughead she remembered, who could string together beautifully elegant paragraphs on paper but struggled to find the words to project his eloquent thoughts out loud.

 

They fumbled around in the darkness together, bumping into chairs and tables as they went, and nearly knocking over an entire bookshelf in the process. Finally, they felt around for the main desk, and flicked on the overhead lighting system. The impossibly bright lights stung Betty’s eyes for a moment or two when they finally flooded the rows of bookshelves in their golden aura.

 

Betty turned to Jughead, who was already looking at her. He smiled sheepishly, sticking his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, and Betty remembered how it had felt beneath her fingertips; warm and rough.

 

However, his smile faded, as he remembered why the two had entered the library in the first place. They had to talk.

 

He signalled for Betty to sit, taking his own seat at a table beside one of the many bookshelves. She complied, resting her forearms on the smooth, lightwood surface and picking at her nails nervously.

 

“So…” she began, not really knowing how, or where, to start.

 

“So…” Jughead replied, in the same, unsure tone. “Umm, well, I mean, why don’t we start with your text?”

 

Ah. The text. The one Betty had poured half of her heart into. Suddenly, she was unwilling to open up that part of her mind to him again. She sighed inwardly. _No,_  she thought,  _this was never going to be easy. You have to do this. For Jughead._

 

Betty looked up from her intent gaze at her hands, and met Jughead’s. He smirked, and Betty wondered what shade of red she had turned. Before she could force herself to say any more, Jughead interrupted the tense silence.

 

“It’s okay, Betts. I get it, opening up is hard. You don’t have to say anymore on it now, if you don’t want to.”

 

Betty exhaled in relief. “Oh, thank god,” she whispered into her hands, as her head fell into their grasp, and Jughead chuckled.

 

She looked up once more. “So, Jughead Jones. We have much to catch up on.”

 

He smiled. “We sure do, Coop.”

 

“Well, you start.”

 

“Oh no, I think your life is much more interesting than mine.”

 

“Oh yeah? I think the snake on your back says otherwise.”

 

Instantly, Jughead’s playful grin fell from his face. He dropped his gaze, his eyes meeting Betty’s hands instead of her eyes.

 

“A lot has changed,” he said. His voice was tinted with something Betty wasn’t familiar with. Hostility? Shame?

 

Betty replied, nearly at a whisper. “Yeah. I know. You don’t have to explain if you don’t-”

 

“No. I do. I just, um, I don’t know where to start."

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What does Jughead have to say?
> 
> Thank you, again, for reading! Comments and Kudos are greatly appreciated, and you can find me on tumblr as arubyandarose if you so wish.

Silence. That’s what preceded Jughead’s words of honesty. He seemed to contemplate for a moment, staring into space and not looking at anything in particular. Eventually, he returned his gaze to Betty, who was watching his every sigh and twitch. He drew backwards, leaning on the back of his chair and taking a breath.

 

“Months ago, just after my dad went to jail and I moved to Southside High, the Serpents came to see me. Just a couple elders, like Venom and Tall Boy.”

 

In any other situation, Betty would have laughed profusely at anyone who was voluntarily named “Venom” or “Tall Boy”, but the air was so tense and Jughead was so earnest, she couldn’t even find a chuckle from within herself.

 

Jughead continued. “Since my dad was their leader, that made me the heir by blood. And, now that my dad’s locked up, they needed a new leader. By club rule, that position fell to me.”

 

“But you’re so young!” Betty exclaimed, shocked. “Did they really want a highschool student leading them?”

 

“That’s what I said! But Tall Boy told me it was a serpent law written by my grandad, who founded the Serpents, so they had to follow it whether they think it’s wise or not. I didn’t really have all that many allies in the Southside, either; on the first week at Southside High, I had the shit beaten out of me by a couple of Ghoulies. So, I figured, even if it was just for my own protection, I should join the Serpents.”

 

Betty stared wide-eyed, and felt waves of guilt plunge her into their freezing depths. She couldn’t help but wonder; what if she had been there for him? Would he have had to turn to such measures, just to survive?

 

“So, I did,” Jughead stated, with a sense of finality, “and now I’m a Serpent. I didn’t even consider that would drive you, Arch and Veronica off even further, but I guess it did.”

 

Betty was sure Jughead didn’t mean to give his explanation as sharp of an ending as he had. The Jughead she knew wouldn’t. But maybe this wasn’t the Jughead she knew anymore; he’d seen much more, done much more. More than she could, or wanted to, imagine.

 

In an attempt cut the tension, Betty launched into a reply, blatantly avoiding everything Jughead had just unloaded, more for her sake than for his.

 

“Well, on my side of the story, to make things short and sweet, I told Archie that I liked him, and-”

 

“Wait, really?” Jughead looked… hurt? No, it wasn’t hurt. Surprise. It was surprise. Right? “Well, what did he say?”

 

“He told me that I was ‘too perfect’, and that he didn’t want me at all. Which was fine, really. It wasn’t his fault that he doesn’t like me back. But then he started spreading rumours to the football team that I tried to, umm, _offer_ myself to him, if you, um, know what I’m saying. Not as a girlfriend but as a person to… _use_ , I guess,” Betty rambled, suddenly extremely embarrassed as she tried to avoid Jughead’s penetrating stare. Instead, she kept her gaze focused on the table and talked.

 

“Which I totally did not. But everyone believed Archie and not me. So now half of the football team is sneering at me for being a slut, and the other half is shouting at me across the hallway asking for hookups and blowjobs behind the bleachers.”

 

When Betty looked up, Jughead had clenched his fists, his eyes cold and sharp with anger. His jaw was tight as he spoke.

 

“And what did Veronica do about this?”

 

Betty laughed cynically. “Well, about that. I found out that Archie and Ronnie were hooking up - well, more than hooking up. They were together, but behind my back. Which I would’ve been totally cool with, by the way. You know, them being together and all, if they’d just told be and not left me to harbour my stupid crush on Archie. So, of course, when Archie started talking, Veronica acted like I was some temptress trying to steal her boyfriend and stopped associating with me.”

 

Reaching across the table, Jughead took Betty’s hands in his, running his thumbs along the smooth skin.

 

“I’m really sorry that happened to you, Betty.”

 

“No, it’s not that big of a deal. I mean, your problems are way bigger than mine. It’s all just high school drama.”

 

Not believing her, Jughead tried discreetly to turn Betty’s hands palm-up. Terrified that he’d see the crescent-shaped marks there left from the many times she’d dug her nails into the frail skin, she adamantly kept her hands planted on the table. His eyes met hers for a moment, and they pled with her. But she wasn’t ready, and refused to move. Jughead stared, as indiscreetly as he could, but eventually released his hands from hers in understanding - worry beyond belief evident in his features, but understanding - and he relented.

 

“Regardless,” he finally said, “that kind of betrayal hurts.”

 

“Juggie, if anything, we betrayed you by abandoning you when you moved to the Southside.”

 

Jughead blinked, and Betty winced internally. She hadn’t called him “Juggie” since they were kids. “Betty, that’s completely different. I distanced myself from you. I did this,” he relied solemnly.

 

Betty paused. “You think this is your fault?”

 

“Of course it is! Betty, you always take the blame onto yourself, but I had just as much power in mending us as you did, and I didn’t. I could’ve texted you, I could’ve asked how you were and whether you were ok, because Jesus did I want to know. But I didn’t have the balls. And now, you’ve been abandoned and harassed and- and-, I wasn’t there to protect you!”

 

“Jughead stop!” Betty nearly shouted, cutting Jughead short and leaving a stunned expression plastered on his features. She reached forwards, cupping his face in her palms, and spoke, softly this time.

 

“Absolutely none of this is your fault. Sure, we were both in the wrong. Neither of us tried to make things right. But you’ve had so much change for you, Jughead. I definitely don’t blame you, for anything. So, can we please just… put this behind us and start over?”

 

A soft smile graced Jugheads lips. “Sure thing, Betts.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, Betty will catch a break.
> 
> Just not yet.
> 
> (you can find me on tumblr as arubyandarose)

Betty gripped her covers as the familiar blaring of her alarm pulled her out of her slumber. She glanced at the clock face; 5:30. If she hadn’t forgotten to take her jacket off before falling asleep a few hours previous, she would have thought the whole thing was a dream; seeing Jughead again, feeling the rugged leather of his jacket against her fingers, gazing into his stormy eyes. It was like the years before, before everything changed.

 

But it wasn’t a dream. It was all real. And Betty was elated because of it.

 

So elated, in fact, that she couldn’t even find it in her to be tired. She dressed for school in an unusually energetic manor, pulling a yellow sweater over her tight ponytail and slipping on her jeans, before flying down the stairs for breakfast.

 

Alice Cooper, the almighty presence of the Cooper household, was already sat at the table, a bowl of fruit at its centre, and a small platter of cupcakes beside it. She had her laptop open, and was furiously typing; undoubtedly, another story for the Riverdale Register, the town newspaper. As Betty reached the end of the staircase and entered the dining room, Alice removed her intent stare at the screen and instead placed it on her daughter. She looked Betty up and down, settling on her face.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to put some concealer under your eyes, Elizabeth? They look incredibly sunken in. It’s very unattractive,” Alice commented, an edge of disgust evident in her voice.

 

“Sure thing, Mother,” Betty replied halfheartedly. Suddenly, she wasn’t so energetic.

 

Betty took her place at the table, diagonal to her mother, who had returned to typing her article. Without thinking, she reached for a cupcake, only to receive a disapproving look from Alice.

 

“Betty, you and I both know you don’t need those extra calories. I’d stick to an apple if I were you.” Alice didn’t try to hide her glance at Betty’s figure as she spoke.

 

Instantly, Betty removed her reach from the platter, instead grabbing the smallest apple of the bunch.

 

“Right, yeah. Sorry Mother, I’ll stick to fruit.”

 

“That’s right, Elizabeth. Now, have you been studying adequately?”

 

“Yes Mother.”

 

“Not sacrificing study time to play that dreadful, screechy instrument, I expect?”

 

If there was one thing Betty Cooper was good at, it was lying to her mother. Of course, Betty studied. Far more than was probably healthy, in fact; definitely a larger amount than any other academic student in her school. However, to her mother, it would never be enough. No matter how many tests she aced, or awards she won, or recommendations she’d earn, her mother was never contented.

 

And, it was that simple fact that justified Betty’s slight twisting of the truth when it came to her violin. If she could never please her mother in the world of academics, why try so hard?

 

Therefore, in the short intermissions to her study sessions at the school library, she’d escape to the music room, pick up her instrument, and play. She’d play until her fingers were numb, and then she’d play more. There was something about the sound of a violin when played well, the way the smooth and elegant tones floated through the air. The freedom it gave her was overwhelming, the power to define herself through music, one of the few things she loved.

 

But Alice didn’t need to know that.

 

“Of course not, Mother.”

 

“I should hope so, Elizabeth,” Alice stated definitively. She stood, closing her laptop and picking it from the table. “Now, get to school. You’d better not miss River Vixen practice,” she continued. Alone, the phrase may have sounded caring, a friendly gesture from a mother, concerned for her daughter’s punctually to a fun activity. But, the tone with which Alice said it, paired with the way her eyes scanned Betty’s body, made it sound more like a threat.

 

Betty kept her head down. She stood, replying with a short and rushed “Of course, Mother.” She shoved a stick of concealer into her bag, eyeing the dark circles on her face in the disgust. Then, without another word, she slammed the door behind her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> Hope you enjoy the chapter :)  
> (you can find me on tumblr as arubyandarose)

School, for Betty, was hell. What made it so insufferable, though, wasn’t the copious amounts of homework or the endless stream of dreary classes that seemed to drag on for eternity. It wasn’t the long hours in cold hallways, or even the impossible expectations she had to live up to.

 

No, what made school hell for Betty was the stares, the hundreds of eyes pinned to her figure. They watched her from all directions, examining her every move like hawks following their prey. They gawked and sneered at her, and the feeling of powerlessness that came with it made her want to curl into a ball and cry.

 

But she couldn’t. She wasn’t raised to be weak; she was raised to show a brave face, smile at her foes and, if they hit her, to turn the other cheek. She was the good girl next door, and she had to live up to the name. Even if that meant staying quiet and placid when the football team eyed her like she was a meal, or when the girls in her class giggled at her plain sweaters and preppy school skirts.

 

In all honesty, she liked her outfits; she felt comfortable, even if they didn’t make her objectively “hot” or “sexy”, and she doubted she’d ever change. But, that doesn’t mean she didn’t wonder what it would be like, every now and then, to let her hair down, live on the wild side. Who knows? Maybe she’d like it.

 

But now, she couldn’t even feel comfortable in a sweater and jeans, because everyone saw her. Perhaps she could’ve slipped past before she became the talk of the school, that was then. Now, the whole student body believed she was some crazy, Archie-obsessed mess who would rather be an object for the redhead to use than have to face his rejection. Now, the eyes watched her every turn she took, laughing and sneering and mocking.

 

Betty finally reached her locker, shoving her bag into the clunky metal box before slamming it shut. She had tried to rush off to Vixen practice without drawing too much attention to herself, after all there were few student milling around the hallways so early in the day, but she had yet to get so lucky. Much to her dismay, at least half of football team (thankfully not including Archie) had just arrived to start their morning practice, and had caught sight of her just before she could run off. One, a tall guy of whom she had no idea the name, called out to her.

 

“Hey, Betty! How’s Archie doing? Still fucking your best friend and not you?”

  
Betty felt her nails digging into her palms.

 

“That’s a shame,” another added. “Hey, if I reject you, will you hop on my dick, too?”  


“It’s probably no use guys.”

 

“What, why not?”  


“I mean look at her, she wouldn’t know what to do!”  


They all laughed. At her. Betty forced the tears pricking at her eyes to subside.

 

“I don’t know, guys. I bet she has some fire in her,” a new voice added from across the hallway, one topped with red hair and a stupid grin.

 

“What would you know, Arch. I mean, it’s not like you hit it, right?”

 

Archie glanced at Betty, eyes gleaming, as if he had something planned. Betty grimaced, and her nails dug deeper into her fragile skin. But, the glimmer in his eyes faded. Whatever he was scheming, he decided against it.

 

“Nah, I wouldn’t cheat, guys. I mean, c’mon, have you seen Veronica?”

 

“She _is_ fine as fuck,” one of the brainless jocks agreed.

 

Betty couldn’t help but agree too; Veronica was hot, beautiful, well dressed, classy, sexy. Everything Betty was not.

 

To Betty’s gratitude, Coach Clayton intruded, ordering the team to head to practice. Smirking at Betty, they complied, finally leaving the hallway deserted. Betty took a deep breath, closing her eyes and composing herself.

 

When she finally opened her eyes, a poster on the wall caught her view. It was adorned with colourful music notes, and written in the unmistakable font of comic sans. It read:

 

**_VIOLINIST WANTED!_ **

 

**_I’m performing one of Bach’s Sonatas for Piano and Violin at a competition, and I don’t have anyone to perform it with. If you’re any good at violin and want to win this competition with me, PLEASE sign here:_ **

 

**_______________________ **

 

**_Love,_ **

**_Kevin Keller_ **

**_A struggling pianist._ **

**_(Please sign up)_ **

**_(I’m literally begging)_ **

 

So far, there were approximately zero names written beside the pleading request. Betty stared at the sheet. She could remember as a child, playing (and winning) competitions, and revelling in the rush performing gave her. Before she could convince herself otherwise, she scribbled her name down in the available space, as well as her email. She hoped to God Kevin was kind, or at least decent enough to not turn her down for her unsavoury reputation.

 

Once she was acutely positive Kevin Keller could contact her, she rushed to Vixen practice, and thus began another dreary day at Riverdale High.

 

The days passed in a blur to Betty; the same, mundane actions repeated over and over in succession seemed to merge over the hours. Now, she couldn’t even tell first period from fifth, because the same mixture of feverish studying and mind-numbing fatigue stuck with her each new lesson she trudged to. By the time the bell signalling the end of the day rang out, her hands ached from the hurried jotting she filled her pages with each class, and her eyelids drooped more from boredom than from drowsiness.

 

An alert sounded from her phone. She pulled it from her pocket, checking the sender. It was Jughead.

 

Suddenly, Betty felt neither tired nor bored.

 

**“Cooper, how would you like to join me for a burger at Pop’s? My treat x”**

 

Betty’s eyes scanned over the message perhaps a hundred times. Did she always get so worked up when she was going to see Jughead? Her eyes were glued to the kiss he left at the end of the message. Was it just courtesy? Did it mean anything? Maybe-

 

No.

 

It couldn’t

 

Right?

 

Anyway.

 

She replied, a little too quickly.

 

**“I’d love to, Jug. What time?”**

 

Jughead’s reply was as instantaneous as hers.

 

**“I can pick you up from school if you want?”**

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!  
> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy!  
> (you can find me on tumblr as arubyandarose)

Betty’s palms stung as she ran them under the freezing water pouring from the sinks in the girls lavatory, and she winced at the vaguely familiar yet still remarkably painful sensation. Her hands were splotched with deep scarlet, which was now a lighter shade of coral pink as the shower of cold water washed the remnants of her weakness away. She turned off the tap.

 

She was met with a cold burst of wind as she opened the school’s front doorway. Most of the other students had already gone home, which left the parking lot of Riverdale High nearly deserted.

 

Betty gripped her arms as she waited outside for Jughead to arrive, shivering slightly as she attempted to warm herself. She was beginning to regret not taking a coat, because, standing outside the school, the cool autumn air nipped at her arms through her thin sweater.

 

Betty looked back down at her hands. Based on the day’s previous events, it was a wonder that she managed to control her outburst. Unfortunately, this self control came with a price tag, and that was the deep, crimson nail marks that marked her palms, and the familiar stinging as she ran her fingers over the indentations. Despite washing her hands moments before, the wine-red crescents apparent on her hands were as deep and shocking as ever.

 

As she awaited his appearance, Betty’s mind wandered to Jughead, and butterflies reared in her stomach. Why was she so nervous? She had triple checked her message to her mother had been sent and received, stating that she was at a late-running Vixen practice/study session, and definitely not running around with the Serpent Prince. She had confirmed three times over that her violin was safely stowed away in the music room, not to be touched by another soul before she returned, giving her a sense of security in knowing that the instrument so close to her heart was properly protected. So, why on Earth did she feel a strange swirling inside her? She knew it was nerves, but for what?

 

An email pinged on her phone, and the name  _Jughead_ flashed across her mind.

 

But it wasn’t Jughead. The email with which the sender had used, in fact, was unfamiliar to her. Regardless, she read the message, and a smile grew on her lips as she read.

 

**Dear Betty Cooper,**  the sender wrote.

 

**First of all, thank you soooo so much for signing up to be my violinist, I literally cannot even enunciate how grateful I am for your beautiful existence.**

 

**Anyways, how would you feel about meeting tomorrow? Lemme tell you girl, as the one to answer my prayers I am DYING to meet you!**

 

**So, how does lunch sound? (I’ll buy you a taco)**

 

**Hugs and kisses,**

 

**Kevin <3**

 

Instantly, Betty was thankful for Kevin’s cheeriness and straightforward attitude; there weren’t enough people in the world like that. She was also glad he wasn’t stiff or obsessed with formalities; she had enough of that in her day to day life, and his joyous honesty made her have to stifle a giggle.

 

She wrote her reply, a quick message detailing where to meet and when, and as she pressed send, a low rumbling echoed from the parking lot ahead of her. She looked up, and was met with an exciting yet anxiety-inducing sight.

 

A helmeted figure, one she could only assume was Jughead, had ridden a motorcycle to see her.

 

Jughead rode a  _motorcycle_.

 

Betty’s first thoughts were how horribly dangerous that was. Should he really be riding a motorcycle? What if he crashes? What if he got hurt? As he removed his helmet, his raven locks (which were no longer covered by a grey beanie, it was worth noting) fell in curls over his eyes. He glanced over at her, and she felt that strange swirling in her stomach again. Really, what  _was_ that?

 

He dismounted, walking over to were she stood stationary, still holding his helmet. When he arrived in front of her, he smirked.

 

“Hey there, Juliet,” he said, smiling.

 

Betty couldn’t help but smile back.

 

“Hey there, Romeo.”

 

He grinned, and the butterflies erupted in her stomach once more.

 

He held it out in front of him, presumably for her to take. It was a shiny black, with a tinted mask so the rider couldn’t be identified while wearing it. Betty wondered if the choice was intentional, if the ability to remain anonymous was useful in Jug’s every day life, or whether it was a coincidental occurrence.

 

She hesitated in taking the object, looking at Jug inquisitively.

 

“What about you? Don’t you need a helmet?”  


He smirked again.

 

“I don’t need it, Betts.”

 

“What if you get hurt?”

 

“Betty, I won’t”

 

“What if we crash? What if a car swerves into you?”

 

“Then it’s a whole lot more important that you have a helmet on than me.”  


Betty was about to argue back, explain to him that that makes absolutely no sense and to just wear a helmet and ease her, but he quickly rebutted.

 

“I’ll drive slow, Betts. So please, wear the helmet, okay?”

 

Conceding, Betty tried to pull the helmet over her head, but her ponytail obstructed it, so she reached behind her and pulled the tie out. Her rich, golden locks draped prettily on her shoulders, and she felt Jughead’s stare on her as she brushed her hair down with her fingers. Once she was satisfied, she swiftly placed the helmet on her head, letting Jughead lead her to the bike. He helped her up onto the back, sitting himself just a bit forward.

 

With his feet still planted firmly on the ground, he took his hands away from the handlebars. He reached behind him for her hands, which were previously placed tentatively on his waist, and instead brought them around his body to meet in front of his abdomen.

 

“Hold on tight, Betts,” he said.

 

Betty felt her heart beat out of her chest, and was scared Jughead could feel the rapid palpitations through his back as she leaned into him.

 

“Okay,” she replied quietly, gripping tighter before Jughead started the bike and drove off.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are greatly appreciated!  
> Also, please forgive any spelling and grammar mistakes; this chapter isn't proofread.
> 
> (you can find me on tumblr as arubyandarose)

Wind whipped at Betty’s arms as her and Jughead sped through Riverdale, shops and houses flying past them as Jughead guided the motorcycle away from Riverdale High. Despite her nerves, Betty couldn’t deny the rush that ran through her body as she gripped Jughead’s torso tighter between her arms, the street lights blurring and buildings merging together as the bike shot past them. Jughead drove them closer and closer to Pop’s, and Betty tried not to let her mind wander to the way his abs felt against her fingertips, or how the green snake stitched into the back of his jacket would feel against her cheek were her helmet not in the way, or how-

 

Anyway.

 

As the pair neared Pop’s, Betty felt the movement of the bike halt to a stop, as Jughead placed his feet on the ground and dismounted the bike. Betty did the same, holding to Jughead for support as she did so. Once she was securely on the ground, Betty removed her helmet, and was suddenly extremely conscious of the lack of a ponytail in her hair. Did it look weird? Was her hair messy?

 

Furiously, she tugged her fingers through the slightly ragged, golden locks, hoping Jughead wasn’t watching as she did so. He looked back at her as she patted down the top of her head, hoping it didn’t look like a birds nest. He smirked.

 

“Here,” he said, chucking slightly, “I’ll do it for you.” 

 

He reached forward, brushing his fingers through Betty’s hair and tucking a lock behind her ear. Betty didn’t know how to respond, only relishing the feeling of Jughead’s fingers carding gently through her messy locks. She stood silently, the words  _ say something say something say something _ looping through her mind endlessly.

 

When Jughead pulled away, he turned his face away from Betty’s view, much to Betty’s displeasure; she wanted to know if he looked just as flustered as she felt. The gesture had left Betty confused. What the hell was  _ that _ ? The butterflies reared in her stomach once more.

 

Without a word of the matter, Jughead walked away, holding the door to Pop’s open for Betty, before closing it behind her.

 

Pop’s Chock-Lit Shop was almost like a home to many; open 24 hours, it was a sanctuary for any teen in need of good, greasy food. For Jughead, this need was present in him nearly all the time, making the whole “open 24 hours” thing extremely useful for him.

 

The bell dinged as Betty and Jughead entered the shop, mildly busy but not so much that it would be difficult to find a seat. As the ringing noise called for attention, Pop, almost instantly, appeared at the counter. He greeted them with a cheerful, slightly confused smile.

 

“Hey, kids! I haven’t seen you two together in a while, how about you grab a seat and I’ll take your orders in just a minute?” he proposed joyfully.

 

“Can’t argue with that,” Jughead replied, a similar smile growing on his features. Despite his regular, stony, forbidding appearance, Jughead had always had a soft spot for Pop.

 

Betty and Jughead took their seats at a nearby booth. Betty placed her hands on the table in front of her, and couldn’t help but smile at Jughead’s gaze. He returned the gesture softly.

 

“So, how are things for you, Jughead?” Betty began. Though she was using the question to start a conversation, Betty was truly interested in what Jughead got up to nowadays, now she couldn’t always there to see the happenings of his life first hand.

 

“Well, you know how it us, Betts,” he replied, noncommittally. Betty suspected he was just dodging the question.

 

Before long, Pop had rejoined them. He asked for their orders, and Betty was suddenly aware of how high in calories everything on this menu was. She couldn’t shake her mother’s words on her weight as she scanned the paper for something low in fats. In the end, she settled for a milkshake, hoping the extra calories could be burned off through intensive River Vixen practice.

 

Jughead couldn’t keep his eyes off her every second of her scrutiny of the menu. Each time she scrunched her nose, something inside him felt… different. 

 

“Something up, Betts?” he asked, propping his chin up on his hand as he surveyed her.

 

“Oh, um, it’s nothing. I just… My mum has been really on my case about weight recently, so…” she replied, cautious; she knew how protective Jughead had been over her in the past, and she didn’t want him to worry himself over trivial things, like her unsavory relationship with her mother.

 

From his expression at her words, she knew he hadn’t changed one bit.

 

“Betty, you have nothing to worry about when it comes to that. I mean, you’re… God, you’re beautiful, Betty.”

 

Betty smiled, a soft smile that was laced with sadness.  _ He’s just saying that _ , she thought.

 

Desperately trying to move the subject along, Betty whipped her head around, observing the surroundings carefully. She tried to recall the many hours she’d spent in Pop’s years before, her memories somehow falling short of what she’d expected. She was just realising how long it had been since she’d last succumbed to the tantalizingly delicious flavour of a Pop’s milkshake.

 

“God,” she said, “It feels like I haven’t been here in ages.”   
  


“Yeah, me neither. It nostalgic as hell, I really miss this place.”

 

“Wait, you don’t come here anymore? I thought this place was like your home-away-from-home? What on Earth happened, Jones?” she asked, feigning horror.

 

Jughead chuckled. Betty loved that sound.

 

“Yeah, it  _ was _ , I guess. The Serpents don’t really come here, though, so there’s never any point in me eating here. We spend all out time in the Wyrm.”

 

“The… what? The worm?” Betty inquired, failing to stifle a giggle.

 

Jughead’s smile matched hers. “It’s called the Whyte Wyrm. It’s a bar on the Southside.”

 

“Oh, so it’s like a Serpent... meet-up?” 

 

Somehow, talking about the Serpents was becoming easier for Betty. She knew it shouldn’t; she knew they were dangerous, but perhaps there was something about the fact that it was  _ Jughead _ . He was their king; they had accepted him into their pack and allowed him to lead them. How bad could they be?

 

“Yeah, essentially.”

 

“What’s it like there?”

 

“It’s… different. I don’t know how to explain it, it’s… nothing like this side of the tracks.”

 

“Well would you look at that. Jughead Jones, Riverdale’s very own Truman Capote, is stumped for words.”

 

The laugh Jughead let out was whole and hearty.

 

“Well, what about you, Hilary Hahn? Play any concertos recently?”

 

“Actually, I’ll have you know, I’m playing at a competition in a couple weeks time.”   
  


“Wow, really?” Though the surprise was evident, there was something else in his voice. As Betty watched his eyes light up and his lips turn up into a pleased grin, the only word she could use to describe it was pride.

 

“Yep,” she told him, popping the ‘p’. “It’s a piano-violin duet with a guy at my school called Kevin. I haven’t met him yet, but over email he seemed really cool; I can’t wait to meet up with him and start practicing, it’s like… I don’t know, it’s like an itch. When I play, I always feel so much calmer and at ease, and the way I feel up on that stage is just indescribable.”

 

“Betty, that’s incredible! Could I come and watch you?”   
  


Betty’s eyes widened at his sincerity. “You’d wanna come?”   
  


“Only if you want me too.” Betty loved this side of Jughead; vulnerable and sensitive.

 

“Juggie, I’d love that.”   
  


Jughead grinned that wide, wholehearted smile.

 

“Betts, I’ll be in the front row.”

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> Just a quick warning: this chapter contains some violence.  
> As always, comments are greatly appreciated!  
> (you can find me on tumblr as arubyandarose)

The constant and impetuous marching of the clock hands ticked on as Betty and Jughead continued to converse in earnest, sitting opposite each other in a Pop’s diner booth, and as each party’s shoulders relaxed, eyes brightened, and expressions accentuated as more time passed, Betty’s eyes were drawn to Jughead’s little quirks that seemed to draw her to him more and more. Each time she made him laugh, she made note of the beautiful noise that he emitted through his hearty chuckle. Each time she mentioned a movie he liked or a band he was into, his eyes would widen ever so slightly, and the endless blue of his eyes seemed to brighten.

 

Betty couldn’t think of a better day.

 

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

 

In this case, the foretold end of this sweet and beautiful memory was the entry of four teenagers.

 

As Betty and Jughead critiqued the works of Quentin Tarantino (Jughead saw the man as a God, while Betty saw this reverence of the director as slightly over the top), the door burst open. Following this outburst, a group emerged from the door, this group containing non other than Archie Andrews, Reggie Mantle, Chuck Clayton, and Veronica Lodge. Betty couldn’t even be bothered to stifle the sigh that came at their appearance.  _Just when I thought I could have a stress-free moment in the midst my stress-filled life_ , she though. She kept her head down, like prey hiding from a predator, the hunted hiding from the hunter. Luckily, they had yet to spot her in their hunt for a seat, and she planned to keep it that way.

 

At least, that’s what she thought she could do, naively. That’s not what happened.

 

As the quadrio scanned the area for a spare seat, Veronica’s gaze lingered on Betty’s pale-gold locks, paired with Jughead’s shock of inky black, and her eyes widened at her recognition of the pair. A wicked, merciless smirk began to slowly grow on her lined lips.

 

“Well, what do we have here?” she asked innocently, but Betty didn’t miss the sharp undertone of her voice, reeking ulterior motives.

 

“Well, shit! Betty fucking Cooper, slumming it with a snake. Who’d have thought, right guys?” Reggie added, the same shit-eating grin plastering his features.

 

_God, can I please catch a break?_ Betty thought, but she stayed silent, the sting of her palms being the only reminder for her to stay docile and in check.

 

Betty looked to Jughead, hoping he wasn’t too disappointed with the way that afternoon was shaping up. She was almost shocked at the sight she was met with; the soft, welcoming Jughead she had seen moments prior, the one who had given her his helmet and smiled at her sheepishly from the other side of a library desk, had evaporated, disappeared into thin air with no trace left behind. The person opposite her, despite having the familiar jet black curls that fell over his entrancing, cerulean eyes, was not that boy from her past, nor was he the boy from the library, or the boy with the helmet. He wasn’t even the boy with the cold eyes that had seen too much, the numb expression of one who had been tossed away too many times, and could no longer muster the will to care.

 

This boy was rage; that’s the only way Betty could describe the way Jughead looked at Reggie, as brainless rabble continued to spew from the footballer’s mouth.

 

Reggie was joined by Archie, who pushed his way next to their table to sneer at the pair. Betty desperately avoided his grin.

 

“Wow, Betts. I mean, I thought I would be surprised, but when you think about it… We all know you’d fuck a dog if it gave you time of day, right?”

 

“Don’t fucking talk to her like that,” Jughead snarled, standing slowly from his seat as Betty stared fearfully at his gradually heightening figure.

 

“Why? I’m only saying what’s true. I mean, you’re fucking her. I bet all your snake friends are fucking her. It’s fair enough for her, I guess. Let’s be real, the only thing good about those sweaters and jeans are what’s undernea-”

 

Archie didn’t get the chance to finish that sentence; the swift collision of his cheekbone with Jughead’s clenched fist cut him off. His arrogant smirk instantly turned sour with aggression as staggered back, nearly falling but catching himself on a counter as he reeled from the hit. As he regained his composition, he threw a returning punch at Jughead. However, Jughead dodged, ducking out of Archie’s reach before planting a hit on directly on his nose.

 

Instantly following the blow, a fountain of blood spurted from Archie’s nose, which trickled from each of his nostrils and stained his shirt the rich crimson.

 

“WHAT THE FUCK!” he roared, “I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU SERPENT TWAT.”

 

Jughead just grimaced, leaning closer to Archie. He spoke into Archie’s ear, slowly enunciating each word with copious venom.

 

“You don’t know who the fuck you’re messing with, dickhead. Say one wrong thing to Betty again and I swear to God, I won’t be the one getting killed.”

 

He took one last scan of the scene; Veronica blubbering as she gripped onto Archie, like he some fucking saint-like martyr taking his last breath, Reggie and Chuck’s conflicted expressions, debating whether to fight back or stay uninvolved (and safe). And Betty, stunned to silence as she stared at Archie’s figure. There wasn’t even a hint of sympathy in her glare, just pure and unadulterated disgust. She was shocked, scared, even, at the violent outburst, evident in the way her hands quaked as she struggled to stay still.

 

Not wanting to spend another moment at the scene, Jughead gripped Betty’s hand, guiding her out of the diner.

 

Once they had left, and the glass door was firmly shut behind them, Jughead loosened his grip on Betty’s hand. What he didn’t expect to see on his palm was the traces of blood transferred from the red nail marks on Betty’s hand.

 

Betty saw instant fear fill his eyes as they darted from his palm to hers, and her stomach churned. This was not how she pictured today going.

 

As she slowly turned her gaze down to her palms, tears began to prick at her eyes. Before she could stop, the salty tears streaked down her cheeks, and she tried to hurriedly wipe the evidence from her face.

 

“Shit, Jug. I’m so sorry,” she whimpered, now unable to keep the thick emotion from her voice. Her eyes dropped to the floor. “God, I’m so pathetic.”

 

“No, no you’re fucking not, Betty,” Jughead assured, his voice hard and certain. Betty heard him step forward, until she could see his feet next to her own. She felt the way he wrapped her in his arms, pulling her closer as she dug her face into his chest. She didn’t want him to see her like this; weak, breakable.

 

But, if that’s how he saw her, he didn’t let her know. He rubbed his hand over her back, the other stroking her hair comfortingly. He whispered into her hair, words Betty relished.

 

“You’re not pathetic, baby. You’re fucking incredible. I’m here now. I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Eventually, he pulled away, and watched her, worry evident in his features, as she rubbed the remaining tears from her eyes. Blood continued to seep through the deep cuts on Betty’s hands and Jughead instantly rushed to her side, pulling her hands away from her face. He pulled a cloth from his pocket, a white dish towel of surprisingly soft material, and dabbed it on her palms. Deep crimson stained its pure, pearly white.

 

Betty looked at Jughead confusedly, sniffling slightly as she recovered from her tears.

 

“Why do you have that with you?” she asked.

 

“Umm, well…” he began, unsure of himself. “I get into fights a lot, sometimes when I’m not expecting to. So, um… It’s good to have something to patch yourself up with if things go sour.”

 

Betty thought back to Jughead’s swift and practiced punch at Archie, his effortless dodge of the boy’s violent response.

 

She took the material into her own hands, holding it against her palms.

 

Jughead looked up from her hands, straight into her meadow-green eyes.

 

“Will you come to mine for a while, so I can patch you up?”

 

“Jug-”

 

“Please, Betty,” he objected, his eyes pleading. “Just, let me look after you.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated!  
> Again, I apologise for any grammar or spelling mistakes  
> (you can find me on tumblr as arubyandarose)

At Jughead’s request, of course Betty complied.

 

They both rode back to Jughead’s home; a beaten-down, scrap of a trailer sitting in the centre of Sunnyside Trailer Park. Betty could remember this place; the rundown homes with leather-clad gang members milling about the crowded field. The constant piles of rubbish that littered the downtrodden floor that perhaps was covered in grass once upon a time; the hours she’d spent picking the few but adamantly vibrant daisies from between trailer tires to make a chain, which would eventually find its way atop Jughead’s inky locks.

 

When they neared his trailer, Betty loosened her grip on Jughead’s torso. She took a look at her palms, anger and regret filling her brain as she saw the wounds continue to bleed profusely. Though Jughead had given her a rag to plug the wounds, just something temporary to keep the area clean, her hands had shown no sign of healing and had undoubtedly left bloody marks down the front of Jughead’s t-shirt.

 

Jughead’s trailer was just as Betty remembered it, though there were telltale signs of change scattered around the space. The trailer looked… lived in, to give the kindest possible description. As much as she hated her mother’s voice intruding into her mind, it berated the messy space in Betty’s head. The trailer was a stark contrast to the environment Betty was raised in, her own home a perfect example of this; orderly, immaculate, cold and sterile.

 

But Betty couldn’t think of the trailer as anything but homely. When she saw the spacious rooms and flattering exterior of the Cooper household, she saw a house. When she saw the Jones trailer, the piles of dishes waiting to be done and the occasional shirt discarded on the floor, she saw a home.

 

“Sorry about the mess,” Jughead muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “Um, you can make yourself at home.” He gestured to the worn couch, before disappearing into the kitchen for a few moments.

 

In this time, Betty lowered herself onto the sofa, eliciting a groan of protest from the furniture’s antique structure. When Jughead returned, he held a first aid kit, and had changed his grey, and slightly bloodied, shirt into a plain, black one. Betty couldn’t help but feel uneasiness brew inside her.

 

“Sorry about your shirt,” she said meekly “I can wash it for you, or if you want-”

 

“Betty,” Jughead interjected, plopping down next to her and reaching for her hands. They were still sticky with blood, and, wincing slightly at the messy sight, he placed a damp cloth over the wounds. Betty hissed at the jolt of stinging this brought her. Jughead muttered an apology before he continued.

 

“I don’t want you to clean my shirt, or apologise for anything. For being human. You shouldn’t have to apologise for what happened today. I want to take care of you. All I want you to do is let me. Can you do that?” he asked. His voice was soft and slow, like he was afraid he would scare her off. Maybe he was.

 

When Jughead had finished winding her palms in the soft linen, and had tied off the edges, he didn’t release Betty’s hands like she’d expected. He kept them enclosed in his own, running his thumbs softly over the wrapped flesh of her palms. As he repeated the soft motion, he was oddly quiet, like he was searching around his mind to find the right words. Betty didn’t doubt he was; Jughead had a beautiful way with words, he was lethal with a pen and paper. But, sitting next to her on his couch in his trailer, holding her hands in his own, he seemed stumped. 

 

“Betty… we need to talk.”

 

Betty immediately felt worry claw at her mind. The clichéd phrase held all too much meaning.

 

She hesitated before responding.

 

“What about, Jug?” her soft reply came.

 

Jughead moved his gaze from Betty’s hands to her eyes, the piercing, green meadows that should be flooded with light and prosperity. Sometimes they were, but Jughead knew better than to kid himself into thinking that deliriously happy, or even contented with her demanding life, was Betty’s permanent state. She deserved that happiness, that feeling of contentment, something that was denied of her time and time again. He wanted to give her it, but he knew that would take time.

 

“I…” Jughead’s mind berated his incompetence; the one time he can’t come up with an eloquent and well thought out response to a simple question was the one time he needed it most. “I… Betty… You deserve so much better than this shitty existence. You deserve the world, and everything it can offer you you should get. But life keeps throwing things in your way, taking what you have from you instead of giving you more. I want you to know that I’m  _ here _ , Betts. This… I don’t know the pain you’re feeling right now, but I want to be there for you when it gets too much.”

 

Betty stared at him, wide eyed as Jughead struggled to figure out whether the response was positive or not. As, not long after his monologue, she burst into tears, Jughead was strongly leaning towards the negative. It was only when she uttered a quiet but sincere sentence that relief and something else (hope? affection?) washed over him.

 

“Thank you so much, Juggie,” she had replied through her tears, and Jughead pulled her closer next to him, wiping her tears with the tip of his thumb.

 

As the sun began to fall, the dark sky grew darker and the chilly air chillier, the pair pulled up a movie on Jughead’s laptop and a blanket from under his couch.

 

Despite the events that took place earlier in the day, when Betty leaned against Jughead as  _ Kill Bill _ played on his laptop screen, she was sure the faint swirling she felt in her stomach wasn’t from her anxieties getting the better of her, or her worries for returning to school the next day. Strangely, it was exhilarating to feel Jughead’s heat transfer to her through their contact. And, when Betty felt Jughead shift, to place his arm protectively around her shoulders, she could honestly say she had never felt more content.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated!  
> You can find me on tumblr as arubyandarose

As Betty’s eyes fluttered open, she was forced to squint as the blinding golden rays of the morning Sun streamed through the window of Jughead’s trailer. A strange warmth encompassed her, arms snaked around her torso and legs tangled with her own as heat radiated into her back from an unknown source. Within her was the temptation to stay coddled in the sweet and protective embrace. She blinked her sleepiness away confusedly, taking in her surroundings before the realisation hit her.

 

She had slept over at Jughead’s. On his couch. In his arms.

 

Her mother was going to murder her.

 

Betty jumped from the couch, waking an extremely grumpy Jughead in the process.

 

“Betts, what gives?” he groaned, trying in a daze to grab her hand and pull her back.

 

“Sorry, Jug, I have to go. Shit, my mum is gonna kill me!” she cursed, grabbing her phone from the floor. It read 7:42, giving her less than 20 minutes to get to school on time for Vixen practice. Beneath that, there were 17 missed calls from her mother.

 

Betty raised the phone to her ear in an instant, her mother picking up in one ring. She had to pull the phone away slightly to bear the harsh screeching from the other side.

 

“ELIZABETH COOPER,” Alice roared. Betty winced at her dark and unforgiving tone. “WHERE ON EARTH HAVE YOU BEEN?!”

 

“Sorry, Mother, I, um, I slept over at Cheryl’s. I’m sorry I didn't call you, it was a last minute thing and we were, um, studying till late. I’m really sorry, it won’t happen again.”

 

“It had better not, Elizabeth. You’re grounded. I expect you home straight after school.”

 

“Yes, mother.”

 

Betty ended the call and let out a sigh of relief. That had gone… better than expected.

 

She glanced over at Jughead’s figure, still lying on the couch. He squinted over at her, sympathy in his eyes. She began to gather her school stuff as her observed her.

 

“That sounded pretty intense,” he commented, voice still laced with fatigue.

 

“Yeah, it was. I’m grounded,” she answered as she pulled her bag onto her back.

 

Jughead groaned internally. “Shit, Betts, I’m so sorry-”

 

“There’s no need to be, Juggie. It’s not your fault,” Betty interjected. She opened the door, and before stepping out, added: “Besides… I had a really great time. We should do this again.”

 

She shut the door behind her, and Jughead couldn’t suppress a grin.

 

-

 

Jughead awoke a few minutes later for the second time that day, at the slamming of the door as it opened and hit the wall with a bang. His eyes shot open, adrenaline coursing. You never knew who you’d have to fight in the Southside.

 

It seemed, however, that this rush was completely unnecessary. Through the door entered, not a threat to Jughead, but the closest friends he had ( _apart from Betty,_ he thought. _Shit, had she made it to school safe?_ ).

 

Toni, a short but fierce girl with pink-tipped hair that fell in soft waves down her back stood at the forefront of the group. Toni was like Jughead’s right hand man, or right hand woman, more appropriately. Behind her, entered Fangs and Sweet Pea, the former a stocky and tanned boy with sharp features and dark eyes, and the latter a freakishly-tall and boyishly-handsome serpent with a snake emblem tattooed on his neck. All three adorned serpent-embroidered leather jackets.

 

“Wakey wakey, Jones,” Toni singsonged, pulling him up from his position on the couch by his wrists, much to Jughead’s protest.

 

“Fuck off, Toni,” Jughead told her, still grumpy from the lack of caffeine in his bloodstream. “Jesus, have you three ever heard of knocking?”

 

“Have you ever heard of sleeping in your own fucking bed?” Toni retorted, taking note of the fact that he hadn’t changed out of his normal jeans and t-shirt. “Were you drinking last night? Why wasn’t I invited? You know I like day drinking.”

 

“I wasn’t, you know I don’t do that shit. I just… It doesn’t matter. Let’s go to school.”

 

“One sec, Jones,” Sweet Pea stated from the other side of the room. “What’s this?” He held up a knitted, pastel-coloured sweater between his thumb and index finger.

 

_Right. Betty had taken her sweater off. She must’ve forgotten to pick it up before she left._

 

“Wow, Jones!” Fangs added, smirking as he examined the garment. “I didn’t know you had a thing for pastels. You hook up with some northside chick?”

 

“What? No, guys, that’s just Betty’s.” 

 

“Betty’s?” Toni inquired, suspiciously. “Who the fuck is this “Betty” chick? I thought you were done fucking with the northsiders?”

 

“I’m not- Toni, she’s been my best friend for years, she just crashed here yesterday.”

 

Fangs interjected. “I don’t know why you give so much of a shit, Toni. It’s not like you’re with Jones. Just let him get the pussy he deserves.”

 

“Jesus, Fangs, I told you it’s not fucking like that! Just shut the fuck up about her, okay?”

 

“So you’re not with her?” Sweet Pea asked. “Is she hot?”

 

_She is,_ Jughead though before he could stop himself. It was undeniable, really; her golden locks, her long, sun-kissed legs, her piercing, emerald eyes, her-

  
Anyway.

 

“No, Sweets, I’m not with her. And I’m sure as hell not setting you two up, so can we please just drop this? We have a school to get to, if you’ve forgotten.”

  



	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated!  
> I believe this chapter is a little longer than usual, so happy reading :)  
> You can find me on tumblr as arubyandarose

Southside High was everything Riverdale High was not. Where Riverdale was prosperous and productive, Southside fell short in every category. Where Riverdale housed peaceful and sober individuals, Southside held future convicts and drug-addicts.

 

However, while the students at Riverdale fought their battles backhandedly, through mockery and rumours, the Southside students fought their fights fair and square. There was more blood at Southside, sure, but at least you’d never hear a false rumour or a secret spread unwillingly.

 

Due to this one upside, though, the high school was forced to take the proper precautions to avoid violence getting out of hand, resulting in the placement of metal detectors. Each student had to pass through the metal structures and sneering guards.

 

Well, not all.

 

Jughead didn’t have to, nor did his posse. All he had to do was glare at a security guard, making sure his signature crown beanie was atop his head and the double-headed snake on his back was properly visible, and he could pass free of harassment. There were only two people in the school that possessed this ability: Jughead Jones, the king of the Southside Serpents, and Malachai, emperor of the Ghoulies.

 

Malachai. What a character. He was… completely and utterly insane. That was the only way Jughead could describe him. The man and his Ghoulies lived their danger-filled lives in a drug-fuelled, sex-driven haze. He was older than Jughead; 21 (having been held back a truly commendable number of years). Jughead knew Malachai could leave Southside High any time he wanted, but he also knew that having the school was an excellent vantage point that Malachai would never surrender. Malachai may not have had a knack for academics, nor was he as strategically gifted as Jughead, but he wasn’t stupid.

 

Meanwhile, Jughead was only 17, and, while Jughead was much cleverer, Malachai was more experienced. Malachai had more reputation, more fear stricken in the hearts of northsiders and southsiders alike. And, with people’s fear, comes power over them. Jughead was working towards gaining this power, and, to give him credit, was already likely the second most feared person in Riverdale; he had a reputation too, a cold and calculating, relentless and brutal one. But it wasn’t enough.

 

Malachai caught sight of Jughead as he walked the hall to his first class, flanked by Sweet Pea and Fangs. He smirked, kicking off the locker he was leaning on and flicking a lock of greasy, brown hair from his eyes.  
  
“Jones!” he called, stepping in Jughead’s path. Fangs and Sweet Pea immediately heightened their stances. “Jeez. down, boys,” Malachai responded to this sudden change in attitude. “See you’ve got your other mean girls with you Jones, so I’ll make this short and sweet. I saw you with some hot blonde at Sunnyside the other day.”

 

Jughead’s fists clenched. Punching Malachai was a remarkable stupid idea, but he still had to focus all of his energy on not taking the hit instinctively.

 

“Who is she?”

 

“None of your damn business,” Jughead growled through clenched teeth.

 

“Is she your girl? She a Serpent slut?”

 

_Don’t punch him, don’t fucking punch him, man._

 

“I like her, I bet she’s sexy as hell under all that pastel. Maybe you could introduce us, if you don’t mind sharing?”

 

Sweet Pea and Fangs advanced to stand beside Jughead, sensing his angered state. They pulled him away before he had the chance to make a terrible decision.

 

“Come on, Jug, we have a class to get to.”

 

-

 

Betty was beginning to grown accustomed to the constant weight of staring eyes that seemed to hang upon Betty every hour of the dreary school day. Despite the turning heads as she walked the halls unaccompanied, Betty didn’t allow their gazes to hinder her on the way to the music room. There, she had planned to meet Kevin, to discuss their performance in the state music competition; it was prestigious, well-respected amongst officials in the field of music, and a stepping stone to studying in top-tier universities. At first, Betty was slightly worried to be performing in this kind of event with a partner she’d only just met, however she was still holding onto the hope that Kevin was just as bubbly and agreeable as he was in his emails.

 

She pushed the door open, to find the room was already occupied by a tall and spritely boy warming up behind the piano. He looked up as she entered, and a grin grew on his face as he rose from his seat.

 

“You’re Betty, right?” he asked, walking over to her and sticking his hand out.

 

“That’s me,” Betty replied, taking Kevin’s hand in hers. She was thankful to see he had no negative disposition to her due to the rumours he had undoubtedly heard around school.

 

“Well thank God you exist, Betty, because I would be toast without you. Not even toast, more like incinerated charcoal. Also, call me Kev.”

 

Betty chuckled. She was delighted to see that her hopes were not for naught; she could see this boy becoming her close friend. But, she couldn’t help but wonder…

 

“Hey, Kev… Are you sure you don’t mind performing with me? Especially with all of the rumours…”

 

When Kevin looked at Betty, his eyes were full of sadness and sympathy. His lips were still graced with a sad and gentle smile.

 

“Betty, I don’t care about that. You’ve literally been my saving grace, so I couldn’t care less about that. Though…” Kevin’s demeanour seemed to transform from solemn to childlike curiosity in seconds. “Can you tell me what happened? I promise I won’t tell anyone, and I won’t be offended if you don’t want to, but like, how people have been talking about you is so fucked up and I definitely don’t want to make any false assumptions or say anything dickish.”

 

It was Betty’s turn to smile sadly. It was only after she began explaining that she realised the only other person she’d told this story to was Jughead.

 

“Well, to make a long story short... I told Archie I liked him. He turned me down and is now calling me a slut. I’m over it, he obviously isn’t.”

 

Kevin stared at her, wide-eyed, partly in disbelief and partly in disgust.

 

“Damn, Betty. That’s so not cool, Archie is a massive dick. Jeez, I never realised how horrible he was.”

 

“Yeah, me neither. We were friends for years, but I guess people change.”

 

“But what about Jughead?”

 

Betty’s mind instantly went into overdrive. _Jughead? What about Jughead? How does he even know about Jughead? Does he know who he is? Does he know he’s a serpent?_

 

As her confusion was obviously displayed on her face, Kevin took the liberty to answer her wordless question.

 

“Well, you know, a bunch of people have been saying that you were at Pop’s yesterday with Jughead Jones—he’s basically the serpent king—and that you’re like… you know. Frickle frackling. With him, and the other serpents. Apparently, he got violent with Archie or something, but I figured they were just spouting crap.”

 

Betty’s stunned expression had faded. All that was left was anger; anger at Archie and his gremlin friends for making up rumours about her (even more so than they already had), and for bringing Jughead into this; if there was anymore she wanted to keep sheltered from the happenings of Riverdale High, it was Jughead. He had enough to deal with already without petty rumours and school gossip.

 

“It’s not true though, right?” Kevin asked, bringing her back to reality.

 

“Well, it’s not like that, but…”

 

Kevin’s featured were overcome with surprise once more, but there was no disgust evident this time. He looked more… excited?

 

“Holy shit, Betty Cooper. You and Jughead Jones?!”

 

“No, no no no. We’re not… no. It’s not like that, we’re just friends.”

 

“But you were hanging out with him yesterday, right?”

 

“...Yeah”

 

“At Pop’s.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Sitting opposite each other, staring dreamily into each other’s eyes like two teenagers in love?”

 

“What?” Betty asked, laughing as she did so. “Kev, we’re not dating.”  


“But he did punch Archie for you.”

 

“Well… yeah, he did.”  


Kevin smiled at her knowingly. “And you like him?”

 

“I don’t!” Betty replied, somewhat defensive.

 

“Oh my god, you so do!”

 

“No I don’t!” she nearly shouted through her grin.  


“You do, your whole face lights up when you think about him.”  


Now that the thought was in her head... Did she like Jughead? Was that the swirling feeling in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't escape when she was with him? The elation and happiness, the hopefulness that would always overcome the sadness and anxiety?

 

“...Okay, Kev. Whatever you say. Now, can we choose our pieces for the competition?”

 

“You’re in denial, girl.”

 

“Kevin Keller,” Betty stated in warning. Kevin seemed to take that as a signal to move on. He still, however, smiled mischievously.

 

“Okay, okay.”

 

The pair decided on Bach’s violin and piano duet—as Kevin had outlined on his poster—as well as a few more pieces picked from world famous and renowned artists that they knew would pick up points in competition. All the while, they talked and joked, and Betty felt their friendship blossom into a strong and beautiful flower.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends!  
> As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!  
> I hope you don't mind that my updates have been a bit more spread out, I've been trying to make the chapters a little longer to compensate.  
> Well, regardless, I hope you enjoy!  
> (you can find me on tumblr as arubyandarose)

_Betty’s bag weighed down on her back as she walked home after yet another exhausting and caffeine-fueled day._

 

_It had began poorly, a sure indicator of how the rest of her day would play out. As soon as she had ripped herself from the comforting warmth of her bed, she was greeted by her furious mother. Betty had thought she’d weathered the worst of Alice’s tantrum the night before, a consequence she had been granted the time to emotionally prepare for during school. What she hadn’t expected, though, was to receive similar abuse hours after, despite both family members agreeing to let this one go assuming Betty accepted her punishment. Alice refused to uphold her end of the deal, apparently, and all of the shouting Betty had endured that morning had left her hands stinging. Not even the prospect of playing the violin could lift her crappy mood._

 

_She had an unusually-situated rehearsal with Kevin, nearer to the southside than she was accustomed to, and she felt sweat build on the palms of her hands as they gripped her bag straps. She was painfully aware of the horrors that took on the other side of the tracks, from her parents’ hostile rants intending to “keep her safe”, and the flow of negative articles that seemed to constantly drip from her mother’s pen and into the town newspaper._

 

_Subsequently, Betty had developed a wary stance on the Southside, and couldn’t help but glance hastily down each and every dark alleyway that joined with the main road that she stuck to adamantly, in fear that someone, or something, would jump out from the shadows before she even had the chance to run._

 

_It was at one particular alley, however, that she forced her head down and her eyes on the bland concrete of the walkway. Shivers ran down her spine as a faint groaning echoed from the shadowy enclosure, and it was at that moment she couldn’t bare to look, and find out what could be making that harsh and pained noise. She stayed unmoving as a rock, planted to the ground as if roots had grown from the balls of her feet and dug themselves into the ground, trapping her._

 

_It wasn’t until she saw a trickle of rich, metallic, deep red blood stream around her white tennis shoes that she finally found her feet and bolted. She ran, faster than she thought she could, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She stopped to catch her breath, looking back to see a trail of footprints, splotches of crimson leading to her from the ever growing puddle of blood. She could’ve sword she’d ran miles, but she was somehow only down the street from the crime scene._

 

_She turned to run once more, but something stopped her: a croak, no louder than a whisper, resonating from behind her. She looked around, back at the stream of blood and the dark alleyway. But there was something, someone, else._

 

_Jughead._

 

_(Jughead?)_

 

_(Jughead? Is that you?)_

 

_Betty ran to him, her footsteps splashing in the pools of blood surrounding Jughead’s limp body._

 

_He whispered, “Betty…?”_

 

_She knelt beside him, finding more and more blood spilling from his abdomen. Though she took off her sweater and tried to plug the wound, nothing she tried seemed to be working; despite her best efforts, the seemingly never ending stream of crimson wouldn’t subside. She cradled Jughead’s head in her hands, feeling hot tears fall down her face as she mumbled, to herself more than him._

 

_“It’s gonna be okay, Juggie. You’re gonna be okay.”_

 

_“Why couldn’t you save me, Betty?” Jughead replied, with the little energy he had left._

 

_Betty flinched._

 

_“You could’ve saved me. This is your fault.”_

 

Betty bolted upright, waking in a cold sweat. It took her a few moments to gain her bearings, to realise that it was just a dream, to check her palms for new scars (thankfully, the bandage Jughead had left on her hands had prevented any injuries). After that, she was sure she couldn’t get back to sleep. She stood,  trying to erase the image of Jughead laying on the hard, concrete floor, bathed in his own blood.

 

She couldn’t.

 

She couldn’t stop thinking about him.

 

She had to see him.

 

Whether it was as confirmation that he was indeed safe, or to ease her thoughts of him, she had to. So, despite haunting memories of last night’s fight with her mother, Betty eased her bedroom window open, being sure to make as little noise as possible, before she slipped out and down the ladder.

 

Once she was safely outside, without alerting her mother of her escape, she dashed from the scene, only stopping when she was absolutely positive her house was out of sight. The night was dark; despite each street being lined with lamps, Betty couldn’t help feeling the immense darkness hang over her, and the eeriness of wandering the dark, empty streets alone at such a late hour was beginning to send shivers down her spine. She clutched her arms, not having predicting how the biting cold would feel when she was just wearing a tank top and shorts.

 

Sunnyside trailer park, despite the late hour, was still lively; groups of gang members sat around bonfires, holding bottles of beer and admiring fellow members’ bikes. Betty was slightly envious of the strong sense of community they had.

 

She received a few strange looks as she wandered her way to Jughead trailer in her obviously distressed state, wrapping her fist of the door a few times before an extremely tired, and slightly pissed off, Jughead opened it. A wave of relief washed over her when she saw him.

 

“What the fuck do you wa-” Jughead began, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening when he realised who was at his door. “Betty? What are you doing here? Fucking hell, Betts, you can’t be here this late, it’s dangero-”

 

“Can I come in?” Betty interjected, to which Jughead immediately stepped out of the doorway and gestured for her to enter.

 

She walked in, not sure what to say. She was slightly calmer, but still shaken up and shivering from the cold.

 

“Betty, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Jughead’s voice asked from behind her.

 

She turned towards him, knotting her fingers together. “I just needed to see you,” she said, looking to the ground.

 

Jughead spoke softly. “To see me? Why?”

 

“I just…” Betty trailed off, struggling to find the right words to match her jumbled feelings. “I’m really worried about you, Jug. You’re one of the most important people in my life, but your life is so dangerous and so different to mine. The thought of you getting hurt has been eating away at me.”

 

She kept her head down and avoided Jughead’s gaze, afraid of the expression he’d be wearing. She felt Jughead come closer, and he lifted her chin with his finger to make her eyes meet his.

 

“Betty, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m strong, and I have my serpents to protect me.”

 

“You don’t get it, Juggie. I can’t help it.”

 

Jughead stared at her in surprise, only breaking his gaze to shake his head.

 

“I don’t get it? Betty, you have to be kidding! Watching the assholes harass you at Pops, knowing that you probably get the same shit at school, I mean, I worry about you all the fucking time. I can’t get you off my mind! I mean, Jesus, you walked here on your own, right? In the middle of the night, looking the way you do. What if something had happened to you?”

 

Betty was speechless. Each syllable Jughead uttered, the oh-so-familiar swirling in her stomach grew and amplified; she didn’t know how to react. Jughead responded much the same, silent and unsure, slightly self-conscious of his outburst.

 

“Shit, Betts,” he continued, quieter. “I’m sorry, I just-”

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Betty interrupted quickly. Her eyes swept over his lips, wondering how they would feel on her own.

 

She stepped nearer to Jughead, suddenly overcome with a strange desire to be close to him. He didn’t move away; in fact, he gravitated towards her, like the pair were magnets. Betty lifted herself onto her toes, gripping Jughead’s arms for support, and pressed her lips against his.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends!  
> Sorry for the longer wait, things have been kind of hectic in my life.  
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated as always :)  
> I hope you enjoy!  
> (you can find me on tumblr as arubyandarose)

Kissing Jughead was far from alike to anything Betty had experienced before; never had she felt the heat, the passion, the lust, that filled her in the moment her lips met Jughead’s. It was as if the action had lit a fire; as soon as Betty felt the rough warmth of Jughead’s lips, she was overcome with the desire for  _more_. She wanted to feel his calloused hands as they gripped her waist, to feel his lips on her skin as they moved from her lips to her neck.

 

Gasping slightly at the sudden movement, Betty felt her weight lifted off her feet as Jughead hoisted her into his arms, and smiled with him into another, heated kiss whilst he placed her onto the trailer’s kitchen counter. Each kiss felt charged with electricity, as Jughead tugged at the edge of Betty’s tank top, and Betty’s fingers raked through his coarse, black hair.

 

That moment, for Betty, was one of pure bliss. A moment, that came to an abrupt end with a deafening banging at the trailer door. Jughead pulled away from Betty in annoyance, muttering a string of expletives as he reluctantly moved towards the door, shooting her a look of apology as he did.

 

Betty, almost as annoyed as she was frustrated, dropped from the counter, furiously fixing her slightly messy hair and straightening her shirt. She peered through the now open door, trying to stay out of sight of the visitors as she watched in curiosity. Behind the door frame, stood an older, surprisingly tall, man, with even more surprisingly long hair, and a black, leather jacket on his back. Betty didn’t doubt the presence of a snake emblem on said jacket. She watched, half-worriedly, half-amusedly, as Jughead’s face contorted into a mixture of annoyance and uncircumstantial hatred.

 

“What the fuck do you want, Tall Boy?” Jughead asked, venom laced within his words.

 

Betty had to stifle a giggle.  _Tall Boy_ , she thought,  _what a name_. In fact, the nickname was so absurd that she seemed to remember its placement in a conversation with Jughead. Suddenly, she couldn’t look at the man behind the doorway with even an inch of satire; he was a powerful serpent, one that had played a part in Jughead’s joining of the gang, and he was dangerous.

 

“Jones,” the man replied, his voice harsh and ragged, “the Ghoulies are up to something. I want to have a meeting at the Wyrm tomorrow night.”

 

“And why are you telling me this now? In the middle of the fucking night?”

 

Tall Boy glared. “Because,” he snarled through gritted teeth, “you’re the guy in charge. You’re the one who’s going to be taking this fucking meeting, if you’d forgotten. I figured you’d appreciate the notice.” Betty couldn’t help but sense a twinge of bitterness in his tone.

 

Rolling his eyes, Jughead sighed before returning his gaze to Tall Boy. “Yeah, I know. Same time as normal?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Good. Get out of my fucking sight now, thanks.”

 

Before Tall Boy could retort, Jughead shut the door.

 

“Juggie?” Betty asked softly. She was suddenly struggling to find the right words, and was dismayed to find a new, awkward atmosphere setting in. “Um,” she continued, “Can I, maybe, stay here for the night?”

 

Jughead smiled, an edge of smugness in his grin. “‘Course, Betts. I only have one bed, though.”

 

“That’s fine,” Betty squeaked, perhaps a little too quickly. Jughead chucked.

 

Jughead’s room hadn’t changed since she’d last seen it; there were still books littered about every flat surface, and various shades of black, grey, and navy blue clothes lay crumpled on the floor. The twin size bed, despite its lacking area, was surprisingly warm and comfy, and a welcome change from the biting air of the cool outdoors. Betty climbed beneath and snuggled into the duvet in an attempt to absorb more heat in the midst of the cold night. She heard the click of the light switching off, which was followed by a flood of darkness. Accompanied by footsteps, was the sound of (what Betty could only assume being) Jughead pulling off his shirt, and she soon felt him slip beneath the covers behind her.

 

The pair laid in silence for a number of minutes, before Betty heard Jughead whisper:

 

“Betts?”

 

She turned to face him, barely able to make out his features in the dark.

 

“Yeah?” she answered, matching his hushed tone.

 

“I just… I don’t want you to think this… what we have… is a casual thing to me. It’s not. I- fuck, Betts, I don’t want you to see me like one of those womanizing assholes at your school.”

 

“Jug, I could never see you that way.”

 

“You say that now, Betty, but a lot has changed in the past few months. What if you see who I’ve become and realise I’m not what you want?”

 

“Jug,” Betty said firmly, cupping his face in her palms. “This isn’t casual for me either, and that isn’t going to change. I know this is what I want. Nothing that has happened in the last couple months is going to change that.” She paused for a moment, in thought. “You have to promise me one thing, though…”

 

“Yeah? What is it?” asked Jughead, his tone full of hope.

 

“Transparency. Anything that’s going on in your life, whether it’s dangerous, or upsetting, or scary, I want to know about it.”

 

“Betty…”

 

Her voice cracked ever so slightly as she spoke. “I- I can’t sleep at night knowing there’s a possibility you could get hurt, that I’m going to call you, or knock on your trailer door and find out that- that-” She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t say hurt. She couldn’t say dead.

 

“...Okay,” Jughead finally replied. “But you have to promise me something, too.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“If there’s something bothering you, or if you’re in any kind of trouble, or even just feeling down, I’m the person you come to.” He reached for her hand, running his thumbs over the indentations on her palms. Betty had since removed the dressing he’d left on them, but he could still no doubt feel the imperfections in the marred skin under his fingertips. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need. A shoulder to cry on, a warm bed to sleep in away from your parents, a support system, anything. I’m here.”

 

“...Okay.”

 

Despite the blinding darkness that shrouded them, Betty knew Jughead was sporting that wide, boyish grin.

 

“Well then, Betty Cooper. Would you accept the honour of being my girlfriend?”

 

Betty giggled. “The honour?”

 

“That’s right, Coop. Reserved just for someone as amazing as you.”

 

Betty felt a hot redness creep up her face, and was suddenly very thankful of the dark for disguising her. “Stop,” she uttered, not entirely serious.

 

Jughead chuckled, throwing an arm around her and pulling her against him.

 

“Never.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends!  
> Hope you enjoy this chapter, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated :)  
> (you can find me on tumblr as arubyandarose)

Caramel streaks of light trickled through the partially-obstructed window, creeping delicately past the thin curtains and causing Betty to squint in their pretty, yet blindingly brilliant, gleam. As her eyes fluttered open, and her senses awoke, the first thing she noticed was the presence of an enveloping warmth behind her, and the strong arms that snaked around her torso and settled at her stomach, pulling her close against the figure. Jughead.

 

She turned to face him (which was somewhat a struggle in his embrace), and found his eyes still peacefully closed and his breathing deep and level. Even after sleeping, his raven-like hair fell in soft curls that Betty found positively adorable. He had no shirt on, and, while Betty tried not to let her eyes wander, she found herself staring at the large snake tattoo on Jughead’s shoulder. The dark, emerald-toned snake was double-headed and “S” shaped, identical to the one on his jacket save for the tiny, golden crown which topped each head of the tattoo.

 

Betty glanced at the clock, suddenly conscious of her home situation, specifically her monsterous mother, and the inevitably terrifying consequences that would befall her should Alice find her daughter’s room empty. Much to her relief, it was still relatively early, giving Betty just enough time to slip back home without her mother noticing her absence.

 

She slipped from Jughead’s arms, struggling to do so without waking him. He stirred as she stood upright, but soon returned to his placid sleep. Now that she was no longer in his arms, Betty felt the biting cold of the morning prick at her skin. Her eyes found Jughead’s discarded shirt, as well as a warm-looking flannel that hung from the back of a chair.

 

_ I’m sure he won’t mind _ , she thought, as she changed out of her thin tank top, slipping Jughead’s grey “S” shirt over her head, finding it falling to her mid-thigh and hiding her shorts. She pondered the reactions she’d recieve at school. 

 

_ They’ll talk anyway. Give them something to talk about, _ she thought, smiling with slight smugness.

 

To combat the chilling air for her walk home, Betty slipped the flannel over her shoulders. She breathed in the familiar and comforting scent, and, happy with her new “outfit”, left a kiss on Jughead’s cheek before beginning her journey home.

 

-

 

Betty ascended the ladder to her window, easing it open and sliding through the frame near-silently. Luckily for her, Alice hadn’t come into her room. In fact, as she began readying herself for school, she heard the unmistakable voice of her mother calling from downstairs:

 

“Elizabeth! I’m going to the Register, have some fruit before you leave!”

 

“Yes mother!” Betty replied, as she brushed down her hair. She wasn’t feeling the ponytail today.

 

As she dressed, Betty didn’t want to leave Jughead’s shirt at home. Something about knowing it’s  _ his _ ... it made her feel safe, like he was there with her. She wore a pastel-pink skater-skirt that flared out when she spun, into which she tucked Jughead’s shirt. It was different to what she’d normally wear; still  _ her _ , but with an edge. She felt pretty.

 

Before she left, Betty heard the ringing of her phone from her bag. Jughead’s name flashed across the screen, and a delirious grin flashed across Betty’s face.

 

“Hey Juggie,” she greeted.

 

“Hey baby,” Jughead replied. “How are you? You left without saying goodbye.”   
  


“Oh, sorry. I just didn’t want to wake you...”

 

“You apologise far too much, Babe. You have nothing to apologise for.”

 

Betty wasn’t sure what to say.  _ I do apologise a lot, don’t I? Why on earth do I do that? _

 

“By the way, did you steal my shirt?” Jughead continued.

 

A smirk grew on Betty’s lips. “Maybe.”   
  


Jughead laughed. “Can I have it back?”

 

“No.”

 

“Please?”

 

“...Okay maybe. But you’ll have to come and get it yourself.”   
  


“And take it off of you myself too, I assume?”   
  


Betty’s face blushed a brilliant crimson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp* She's doing end-of-chapter notes now? She sure is, folks :)  
> So, what did you think? x


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends!  
> This chapter has taken me far longer than I had anticipated, but it's here x  
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!  
> (you can find me on tumblr at arubyandarose)

_“And take it off you myself too, I assume?”_

 

_Betty’s face blushed a brilliant crimson. She tried to form a reply, only for the words to refuse materialisation in her throat. Jughead chuckled._

 

_“Betts, the real reason I called you, other to check that you were okay, was to ask… It’s my birthday this week. I heard Rebel Without a Cause is playing at the Bijou, if you wanna go with me?”_

 

_A glowing smile grew on Betty’s lips._

 

_“Of course I want to go with you, Juggie. What time?”_

 

Betty fiddled with her bag strap. Her conversation with Jughead earlier that morning encompassed her mind like a track on repeat, as her thoughts recreated each blink of an eye and bite of a lip.

 

In hopes of missing the judgemental crowd of teenagers that stalked the halls each morning before class, Betty had grown accustomed to arriving that few minutes earlier than the rabble. However, due to her late-night rendezvous with Jughead that had kept her away from her own bed until well after early-morning had passed, Betty found herself weaving between clusters of  school-goers at top speed in an attempt to make her classes promptly. Then, a figure blocked her path. It had moved too swiftly, too knowingly. Like it knew the action would result in a collision with the Cooper girl.

 

Betty took a few steps back, her eyes closed as she muttered a quick apology and attempted to get away. The figure blocked her path once more.

 

She opened her eyes. Before her, stood not some mystery figure, but Veronica Lodge.

 

Eyes rolling in disbelief at her misfortune, Betty once again tried to step past Veronica, only for the brunette to disallow the action for a third time.

 

“Well, isn’t this a funny coincidence!” Veronica said, in a cheery voice that reeked venom.

 

“It’s not that funny. I’m trying to get to class, and you’re blocking my way. Move,” Betty replied, her patience thinning.

 

“Aren’t we feisty today?” Veronica commented, in that same, sickeningly faux-sweet tone. “Would that have anything to do with the fact you’re slumming it with the Serpent leader now, and wearing his shirt, no less?”

 

Betty weighed her options. On the one hand, she could politely excuse herself from Veronica’s presence, her teeth gritted and fists clenched. This wasn’t an unconventional approach for her in confrontational situations. On the other hand, however, she could voice every snappy remark that filled her mind. She leaned dangerously close to the latter. One more glance at the shit-eating smirk on Veronica’s lips, and she tipped.

 

“Oh, you mean the guy I was best friends with before he had to move to the southside? The guy who had stuck by me my whole life, and had been with me years before you even came into the picture, that I’m now ‘slumming it’ with? I’m with Jughead, Veronica. Exclusively. I’m not ‘slumming’ with the serpents, I’m not in it for sex, or power, or any other deluded reason your twisted mind could possibly come up with. I’m with him because he’s my boyfriend, and I love him. Now, I know that’s not a feeling you’re very familiar with, I doubt you’d be able to understand it. So, how about you step out of my way, and out of my damn life while you’re at it because frankly, I’ve had it with your and Archie’s bullshit. Get out of my way so I can get to class, I’m late.”

 

The look of utter shock that overtook Veronica’s features was one that Betty relished. Despite that satisfaction, though, Betty couldn’t overlook a few key words that she had included in her little monologue. Like “love”. That she “loves” Jughead. She hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t planned it. It had just sort of slipped out. Naturally.

 

“Whatever, Cooper. You won’t last two months with him,” Veronica hissed, before stalking away in her too-high heels.

 

Betty rolled her eyes. She walk to her class, uninterrupted.

 

-

 

“Elizabeth Cooper, are you just going to stand there, all dough-eyed and ignorant with your violin on you shoulder or are you going to explain to me whose shirt you’re wearing and why it looks so good on you?”

 

Kevin’s eyes were glued to Betty’s unusual attire as soon as she walked into the music room, and had finally snapped.

 

Betty chuckled.

 

“...It’s Jughead’s…” she stated quietly, hesitating.

 

“Jughead’s?! Jughead Jones’s?! As in the Jughead Jones you denied liking, let alone being in a relationship with?!”

 

“...Maybe”

 

Kevin laughed. “Betty Cooper, are you going to actually reply, or are you going to answer my questions like the badass woman you are, who also just happens to be sharing closets with a gang leader?”

 

A smile broke out on Betty’s features. “We may be going out. Jughead and I. As of last night,” Betty told him excitedly through a giddy grin.

 

“Damn, Coop. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

 

“Um, yes you fucking did. You knew I liked him before I did.”

 

They laughed together, at their situation, at the oddness of their conversations, and most of all, at the slowly-increasing craziness of the life of Betty Cooper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? We'll have a little more Jughead in the next chapter, I think...  
> Anyways, let me know! x


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends!  
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated, I hope you enjoy!  
> My tumblr is arubyandarose, if you wanna find me there :)

Jughead was never one to cause a scene; he had always been the outcast, the ignored, the invisible. Therefore, becoming the leader of a gang was like jumping into a pool of freezing water and trying to swim as he felt his muscles cramp from the lack of warmth.

 

Yet, he coped. Surprisingly, he grew quite accustomed to the role; the serpents were more alike to him than the Northsiders he was used to. They were fellow pariahs, only finding comfort with one another, and although he didn’t like the spotlight, he felt it was his duty to lead his fellow serpents, and the power the position gave him gave him a sense of security he never had growing up.

 

The meeting Tall Boy had demanded was a long time coming, really. Everybody knew the Ghoulies were causing trouble, and it was only a matter of time before they came after the Serpents, their only competition. Therefore, surrounded by the darkness of the midnight sky, Jughead and his fellow serpents found themselves in the Wyrm, crowding the space with black leather jackets and half-empty bottles.

 

Once he was sure the members was present, Jughead climbed atop a tabletop, raising his voice to call attention to himself. Within moments, all eyes were on him.

 

“You’re here today so we can talk Ghoulies, specifically to beat them out. We all know they run a strong jingle jangle business, that shit’s taken the streets by storm, but the Ghoulies are relentless; they’re not gonna stop at jingle jangle and whatever else they’ve got going for themselves if they can squeeze more money out of the teenagers in this town, or anyone else they can leech off, for that matter. Obviously, that means they’ll come for us, since we’re the only other gang in the area, and therefore the only thing stopping them from taking this whole town over. Now, I don’t know about you lot, but I sense something’s up. Anyone have any idea what they could be planning?”

 

The crowd was quiet. After a long, thoughtful pause, Sweet Pea raised his voice.

 

“Well, what they’d do if they want to hurt the serpents is target us individually. They’ll target someone who’s valuable to us. You’re our leader, Jug. If anyone, they’ll target you.”

 

Jughead pursed his lips. If there was one thing he dislike about being the leader of the Serpents, it was the perpetual threat of attack posed upon him; every blink of an eye, every tick of a second passing, the heavy and constant weight of his position hung above him like a dumbbell hovering just above his scalp, dangling by a spider’s thread and threatening to fall.

 

Sweet Pea continued, “if we wanna know what they’re planning, obviously someone needs to investigate. Anyone up?”  


A few hands were raised with perhaps slight contempt. The crowd turned to Jughead, awaiting his judgement.

 

He scanned the room, weighing his options, before voicing his conclusion with utmost confidence.

 

“Jim, Birdie, Sonnie. You three. Sneak around the Ghoulie hangout every couple of days, but not together and definitely not wearing your jackets. Never go round there twice; if they see the same people around their hideaway acting suspicious more than once, they’ll know something’s up. Meeting dismissed.”

 

-

 

_The following day…_

 

Betty had _no_ idea what to get Jughead for his birthday. What was something he would appreciate? She knew he wouldn’t want anything frivolous; the Jughead Jones she knew would want something he could actually use, but getting him a sweater or toothbrush didn’t seem all that romantic. A book would be the obvious choice, but Betty wasn’t sure a book existed that Jughead hadn’t already read, and the embarrassment of watching her boyfriend excitedly open a gift, only for his gleaming smile to fall ever so slightly in recognition, was too great to risk exposure to. She could’ve gotten him an expensive hardcover of a classic he already owned, but then again: frivolous.

 

It was at that moment that Betty stumbled across an Underwood typewriter, and it seemed to tick all of these boxes; it wasn’t _really_ a necessity, but she knew it was something he’d appreciate, and be able to use as opposed to it sitting on a messy desk and collecting dust.

 

Speaking of ticking boxes, however, _easy to transport_ was not one of them. Betty was quite sure her arms were going to fall off as she lugged the gift-wrapped box to Pop’s, with hopes of leaving the package on Jughead’s bike before they went to see a movie.

 

After dragging the package to a vacant booth, exchanging friendly and knowing looks with Pop, Betty took a seat, sliding the box beneath the table. There, she sat as she awaited Jughead’s arrival, one she’d most likely hear before she’d see from the rumble of an engine beside the diner window.

 

However, no such rumble reached Betty’s ears. Instead, as Betty’s eyes were trained forwards, an unfamiliar voice spoke in her ear.

 

“Hey, love. This seat taken?”

 

Betty’s head whipped in the direction of the noise. In front of her, stood a tall, lanky man with greasy, brown hair and a gold chain around his neck. He donned a leather jacket, though, unlike Jughead’s, his was bedazzled with shiny spikes and points. Assumedly, no green snake took rest on this man’s back.

 

The unfamiliar man looked, to Betty, the very definition of a douchebag; his posture, his smirk, his clothes and his language all screamed “fuckboy”. Despite her obvious discomfort, he stuck around, so Betty, resolved to getting him away, decided there was no other way than to answer him and hope he would be satisfied.

 

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just waiting for someone.”

 

“Aww, ain’t that a shame. You got a number I could get then, darlin’?” the man replied, a toothy grin on his face.

 

“Uhm, I’m really not-”

 

Before she could finish her sentence, the man sat beside her. She gulped, shoulders tensed as she tried to make herself as small as possible. She didn’t know this guy, and at that moment she was trapped between him and the wall. Every possible scenario flooded her mind, none of them pleasant.

 

“Malachai?”

 

Betty could never mistake that voice. Jughead. She turned towards the door, where the boy stood, a scowl on his face.

 

The man beside her, a self-satisfied grin plastered across his features, retreated from Betty’s side.

 

“Jones, what a surprise. I was just keeping Blondie over here company.”

 

“Stay the fuck away from her, Malachai,” Jughead growled. Malachai only laughed.

 

“Jeez, defensive much? We were just talking, no biggie.”

 

Betty’s expression said otherwise. Jughead recognised it instantly.

 

“What a fucking cop out. Get away from my girlfriend before I make you, Malachai.”

 

“Girlfriend?” Malachai grinned, false innocence tinging his voice with sickening sweetness. “isn’t that cute? Well, I’ll let you two lovebirds get back to your date, then. Have fun!”

 

The bell sung as he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought? Let me know :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there friends!  
> Sorry for not replying to your comments on my last chapter, I promise I'll get round to it eventually lol  
> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated :)  
> My tumblr is arubyandarose if you wanna hmu there

When Jughead saw Malachai sitting next to Betty, his mind flooded with every scenario, every reason, every way this could go wrong. Everything his fault.

 

How could he let this happen? He knew the dangers of being the Serpent leader, he was painstakingly aware of them for that matter. He knew how it affected the people he surrounded himself with, how being just connected to him, important to him, would put others in the same danger in which he was. How could he stay with her, how could he stay by her side, knowing she could get hurt because of it? Because of him?

 

That was the first thought that filled his mind when he saw Malachai’s greasy mug next to Betty, the fear of what could happen to her circulating every ounce of his body like the blood in his veins. He saw the way Malachai shuffled nearer to her, caging her between him and the window. Malachai knew exactly what he was doing, he knew exactly who Betty was and how much she meant to the Serpent Prince. The thought made him want to gag.

 

He knew what he had to do, right? He had to break it off. No matter how much it made his stomach hurl, his eyes prick, his fists clench. He had to. To keep Betty safe.

 

He had to.

 

Right?

 

There was no other way.

 

(Right?)

 

The sound of the ringing bell resonated through the tense air, Betty’s meadow-green eyes finding his sapphire ones, wide and pleading. Vulnerable.

 

Did she know? Did she know what he was going to do? Did she know how it would break his heart? Would it break hers too?

 

Betty stood, but Jughead barely noticed as his heart battled his mind. What finally brought him back to reality was Betty’s hand reaching for his own, her slender fingers interlocking with his. She looked up at him, pushing a strand of flickering gold from her emerald eyes.

 

“Juggie?” she asked. “What’s wrong?” Her voice was light and octaves higher, cautious.

 

Jughead thought of the Ghoulies. He thought of Betty. Each new image formed a whirlwind of terrifying possibility.

 

But then he thought of Betty’s fearful, uncomfortable expression moments before, yet how each tense muscle in her body released when she saw his face. She trusted him, more than he trusted himself.

 

And what kind of person would he be if he abandoned the person who trusted him most?

 

“Nothing, baby. I’m okay. That guy you were sitting with… Do you know him?”

 

“No, I’ve never even seen him before. You said his name was Malachai?”

 

“Yeah, he’s… He’s a terrible person. You need to promise me you’ll stay away from him. If you see him, run. Okay?”

 

A face of confusion flashed across Betty’s features, perhaps some fear too.

 

“What? What’s he done? Who is he?”

 

Jughead sighed. He lead Betty back to the booth, sitting opposite to her and taking her hands in his.

 

“He’s a Ghoulie, the leader in fact. They’re the other gang in Riverdale, except they deal in much riskier, and therefore much more dangerous and immoral, stuff than the Serpents do. So, just promise you’ll steer clear?”

 

“Yeah, Jug. Of course,” Betty affirmed, nodding. Jughead sighed in relief, the corner of his lips curling into a half-smile. She grinned back, bright and joyous.

 

“Well, that kind of put a damper on the birthday spirit, huh?” she added. Jughead chuckled.

 

“Birthday spirit? Can’t say I ever have much of that.”

 

“Wow, okay grumpy. I guess you don’t want your present, then.”

 

“Woah woah woah, lets not jump to conclusions here. Present? For me?” Jughead interjected, grinning.

 

Betty reached beneath the table, sliding the box from under her legs and lifting it onto the table, and smiled as Jughead’s eyes lit up like a child’s on Christmas.

 

“Yeah, I may have gotten you a little something,” she told him.

 

Jughead reached towards the package, flashing a grateful smile at his girlfriend before he carefully worked at the wrapping paper (she’d gone to so much effort to wrap it, he didn’t want to just rip it apart).

 

As soon as he saw the word “Underwood”, he could swear his heart skipped a beat. Jughead was never one for expensive material possessions, giving or receiving, but this was something  _ Betty _ chose for him, something she  _ knew _ would make him happy. He slipped out of his seat, moving to sit beside her so he could kiss her how he wanted to. He wanted her to know just how thankful he was.

 

-

 

_ Rebel Without a Cause _ was good, sure. But sitting next to Jughead, his arm around her… Betty couldn’t even concentrate on the plot. The credits rolled, and Jughead lead Betty from her seat, a silent promise in his grasp.

 

As the pair exited the theatre, fingers interlocked, Jughead whispered to Betty in the midst of the crowded lobby.

 

“Wanna come to mine for a while? We could watch some Netflix, have something to eat…”

 

Betty grinned, her smile ecstatic.

 

“Yeah, I’d love that, Jug.”

 

Jughead smiled sheepishly. Apart from the hiccup in his perfect plans earlier that day in Pop’s, the day had played out better than he could’ve imagined.

 

“Betts, today has been amazing.”

 

Betty didn’t say anything in response, only shuffled close to him, squeezing his hand tighter in her own.

 

Once they had passed the Bijou’s doors, Jughead’s phone ran from his back pocket. He sighed, and pulled the device from his pocket, sliding a finger across the screen and putting it to his ear after sending an apologetic glance Betty’s way. As he took in the information from the other end, he looked as if her were about to cry, or shout, or both. In the end, however, he settled for a calm yet strained “yeah, on my way,” before hanging up. He looked to Betty, the words “I’m sorry” in his eyes.

 

“The Serpents want me."

 

Betty’s heart sank. She knew it wasn’t his fault, and it was his birthday being ruined, not hers, but she couldn’t help but feel the sadness clawing at her heart that came with knowing their near-perfect date was coming to a close.

 

“I’m really sorry, Betts…”

 

“No, Jug,” Betty assured, “it’s okay.”

 

Jughead reached to cup Betty’s cheek in his palm, and brought their lips together, soft and tender. He pulled apart slightly, glimpsing into Betty’s eyes. He had to tell her. He couldn’t go another day without her knowing.

 

“Betty Cooper,” he said, “God, I’m so fucking in love with you.”

 

Betty’s eyes widened, and for a split second, fear struck in Jughead’s gut. His anxieties were eased, however, when she reached for his face, cupping his jaw and bringing his lips to meet hers.

 

“Jughead Jones,” she whispered against his lips, “I love you too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing your thoughts, so please feel free to drop a comment before you leave :)


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